Branthollow was uneasy. The Dominion riders had left two days ago, but their presence lingered like smoke after a fire.
Farrs worked the fields in silence, bent over their plows without a word. rchants haggled in hushed voices, as if loud speech alone might invite soldiers back. Even the children were quieter, their laughter faint and cautious.
Draven noticed it all as he walked the dirt road, his hood low, his hands tucked into his cloak. The silence wasn't peace. It was fear.
"The fool again," a villager muttered as he passed."Still dragging that girl's goat.""He'll see sense when the Dominion calls him."
Draven ignored them. He always did. Their words slid off, but the weight stayed sowhere deep.
By dusk, the inn glowed with lantern light. Horses stood tethered outside, their tack polished, their flanks restless. The black-and-red banners of the Dominion fluttered faintly in the evening breeze.
Draven's jaw tightened. Kaelith had returned.
Inside, the tavern was crowded with soldiers. Their armor glead faintly, boots coated in dust. Mugs clattered, laughter rang, but it was too sharp, too forced. These n were uneasy.
Draven slipped into the shadow of a corner table. He nursed a mug but didn't drink. Soldiers rarely kept their voices low.
"…another call-up in the south. Dominion wants more n.""They say a Noble Roc flattened a garrison.""Bah, just a story.""Then explain the bodies. My brother saw them."
The n laughed nervously. One lowered his voice.
"And the Lord himself? Why does he waste ti in a village like this?"
Another shrugged. "Orders. Recruit, mark, cull the weak. They say the Dominion is building for sothing larger. Sothing's coming."
Draven's hands tightened around his mug. His eyes lifted as footsteps echoed on the stairs.
Kaelith descended, silver hair tied neat, his cloak as dark as the Direwolf padding at his side. The tavern fell silent without command.
His gaze swept the room, then settled on Draven. A faint smile curved his lips.
"You again," Kaelith said smoothly. "The one who cuts ropes and wastes bread."
The soldiers chuckled.
Draven didn't rise. "The one who shows respect."
Kaelith stepped closer. The Direwolf growled, its chest-mark glowing faintly. "Respect?" He tilted his head. "You call it respect. I call it pity. Weakness dressed as virtue."
Draven's jaw tightened.
Kaelith's voice carried, calm but sharp. "Chains are order. Without them, beasts tear us apart. Without them, n tear themselves apart. The Dominion understands this. That is why we rule."
Draven stood now, his eyes level. His voice was low but steady. "If your order needs chains, then it isn't order. It's fear."
The tavern went silent. Soldiers shifted uneasily.
Kaelith's smile thinned. "Careful, fool. Words weigh more than you realize."
The Direwolf growled louder, fangs bared. Its master raised one hand lazily.
"Teach him."
The beast lunged.
Draven moved on instinct. He shoved his table forward, grabbed a chair, and braced. The Direwolf hit the wood with a crack, splinters flying. Its jaws snapped inches from his arm.
Soldiers shouted, mugs toppled, the tavern erupting in chaos.
Draven swung the chair, catching the beast's side. It yelped, stumbled, then lunged again. He rolled aside, grabbed a broken leg of the chair, and jamd it between its jaws. The beast thrashed, teeth sinking into wood.
The fight spilled into the street. Villagers gathered, torches lighting faces twisted with fear and excitent.
"The fool's dead!" soone shouted."No—he's fighting it!"
Draven ducked another lunge, slamd his fist into the beast's muzzle. Pain shot up his arm, but the Direwolf staggered back, snarling. Its chest-mark blazed brighter.
Kaelith stepped into the street, calm as ever. His voice cut through the noise. "Enough."
The Direwolf froze, panting, its eyes locked on Draven.
Kaelith's gaze followed. He studied Draven as if weighing sothing unseen. "Not bad. A fool with teeth."
Then he stepped forward. His hand flicked, faster than Draven expected. The wooden shard was wrenched from Draven's hand. A shove sent him sprawling in the dirt.
Kaelith lood above him, silver eyes cool. "But teeth alone don't bite chains."
He turned and walked away. The Direwolf followed, its gaze lingering one last mont before fading into the dark. Soldiers trailed after, their laughter mocking.
Draven lay on the ground, chest heaving. His fists clenched in the dirt.
"Fool," a villager spat. "Nearly got himself killed.""Always ddling," another said."Now he'll learn."
But not everyone mocked. Mira broke through the crowd, her small fra shielding him from the jeers. Her eyes were wet, but steady.
"You're not weak," she said firmly. "You're the only one who cared."
The crowd muttered, sneering. "The fool and the girl."
Draven sat up slowly. He t Mira's gaze. "Mira… I can't stay here."
Her voice cracked. "Don't go. Please."
He touched her shoulder gently. "I'll co back. But I need to prove it. To them. To everyone. That respect isn't weakness."
He rose, cloak heavy on his shoulders, and stepped past the torches into the dark road.
Above, the stars burned cold. His voice was a whisper, but steady.
"I'll get stronger. Strong enough to break their chains."
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